


i'll accept everything (even tearful nights)

by jj_blues



Category: Amalgam Comics, Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Tim Drake, Brotherly Affection, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dimension Travel, Family Feels, Gen, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26390440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jj_blues/pseuds/jj_blues
Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Damian Wayne has been sent to Prime Earth to retrieve a shard of the Tesseract. He did not expect to run into two familiar people in the streets of Gotham.Three weeks, and one magical accident later, he's back in Prime Earth - this time, with his brother, and fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Tim Drake-Wayne in tow. (Poor Tim just wants to spend his afternoon off playing videogames with Billy. Is that too much to ask?)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 45
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Damian's and Tim's backstories are non-canon since as far as I know, they never appear in the Amalgam Comics.

"You think B would let us build a Wayne Tower in our universe?" 

He ducked behind the brightly-lit convenience store, only half-listening to Drake's attempt at a light-hearted conversation. It's not that he didn't appreciate the familiar voice in his ear, especially when he's navigating an unfamilar environment in the dead of the night; it's just that it's quite difficult to navigate said unfamiliar environment when someone kept asking about the differences between New York, and this so-called Gotham City every five minutes. 

Four years of working with Drake had made him grow - dare he say it, _fond_ \- of his enthusiasm during missions, but Damian knew even he had his limits. Especially when Drake had consumed more than his daily dose of coffee intake. Because he would either be annoyingly chipper, and keep on chattering his ear off about something unrelated to the mission, or act like an annoying older brother through the comms. (As if Damian didn't have enough of his annoying older brother tendencies at home already.) 

He would begrudgingly entertain his handler's questions if he wasn't in his current situation, but unfortunately, he still had to return to their universe before the capable people from Earth-0 (yes, that's what Father actually called this place in his files) realized what he did about half an hour ago. "Don't be ridiculous, Drake. We already have the Helicarrier, and the Triskelion; we do not need another headquarters." 

"Not everything has to be for S.H.I.E.L.D. purposes, brat. And you're walking too fast. Somebody might get the wrong idea." 

He rolled his eyes, but slowed down his pace. He might have trained directly under Madame Hydra for a decade, but his handler, as much as he hated to admit it, wasn't Stark's, and Gordon's protégé for nothing. Even Fury himself had been forced to admit that Drake truly was one of their best agents after he successfully managed to derail a skirmish between S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.P.E.A.R. 

Someone bumped into him. Damian raised his head to glare at the civilian, but she merely stared back with furrowed brows. She opened her mouth, probably to ask something, but Damian pushed past her without looking back. He was well-aware how rude he was acting, but it was also the fifth suspicious glance he'd receive in the last fifteen minutes. He pressed his lips into a thin line. The number of paranoid people in this city could give both Fury, and Father a run for their money. "I don't like the way the people here look at me, Drake." 

"Then maybe you shouldn't have went on the mission in the first place if you can't handle a few stares, huh?" 

Damian bristled at his brother's words. "This was _your_ idea!" 

"I only asked why Bruce relegated you - us, really - to missions way below our level!" Drake retorted. Damian gave a non-commital grunt as he ducked inside an alley. It doesn't matter if Drake bitched and ranted about him constantly going on missions behind their father's back these past few weeks; he would still be glued to Damian's ear whenever he's on the field. "I didn't actually expect you to snoop through his files and pick the most difficult one! So, I'll ask you one more time: why the hell did B bench you, and why won't you tell me?" 

Damian ground his teeth. "He didn't bench me. And you're exaggerating, this isn't the most difficult mission." 

"You literally retrieved an 0-8-4 from a parallel universe. You're lucky Zach hadn't left for Europe, or you'd never have gone on your _'not the most difficult mission'_ today," Drake said. Damian rolled his eyes. He didn't know what magic Zatara did to make the comm piece function between parallel universes, and pick up a conversation if Damian was quiet enough, but he wasn't going to ask. "Plus, in case you forgot, lower-ranked missions are practically Bruce-speak for benching us until the next eternity. Or until Tony yells at him about it. So again, what did you do to piss him off?" 

He tightened his grip around the briefcase. Why can't Drake ever not be nosy for once? He never pressed him when he went off-grid for a couple of weeks, and Damian had to be assigned a different handler. "It's none of your business." 

"It _is_ my business. I'm your handler. Hell, I'm your _brother_. I can't help you if you won't talk to me about what's bothering you - " 

"He found out I kidnapped the Young Avengers," Damian snapped, cutting the rest of Drake's speech off. He'd heard it enough times he could probably recite it in his sleep. 

"You _what_?! Christ, Damian, why?!" 

Because Father was wrong, and he can be a team player if put his mind to it. Because he's more than capable of leading his own team even if he's the youngest agent S.H.I.E.L.D. has seen in years. Because he was more than his mother's son that Father only saw him as. ~~Because he wanted Grayson to come home, and if he created a racket huge enough to attract his attention -~~

"Because...I was lonely," he finally decided. 

Drake's exasperated groan echoed through the comm link. "Jesus, I knew letting you join when you were only ten was a bad idea! I told Bruce about it. Repeatedly! Dick told him, too. Also repeatedly! But did he listen? No, he didn't. Classic Bruce." He could almost see Drake run a hand down his face in frustration. The thought made a faint grin tug on the corners of Damian's mouth. It was good to know his brother cared enough for his well-being no matter how many times Damian had 'accidentally' tried to poison him in the past. "Okay, y'know what? You deserve a treat. Screw the mission, get your ass back here. I'll make you your favorite falafel." 

Warmth pooled in Damian's chest, but he pushed it down in favor of muttering, "I'm not a dog, Drake. And I just can't 'get my ass back' there so easily. I still have to wait for forty-five minutes." 

"Wait for - the portal. Right." Zatara had also transfigured Damian's watch to act as a make-shift portal for the mission. Handy, but the spell had a two-hour cooldown, and would wear-off after only two trips. "In the meantime, maybe you could grab something from 7-Eleven? They have a 7-Eleven there, right?" 

Damian chewed on his bottom lip. "I passed by one earlier." 

"Okay, cool. Now, I know you're new to the whole parallel universe thing, and this might be your hardest mission to date, but you can always count on your favorite handler to guide you inside a parallel universe convenience store - " 

Damian rolled his eyes. "You're my only handler, Drake." 

"The only handler who hasn't had enough of your shit, you mean." 

They fell into the banter as easily as breathing. Damian's ten year-old self would've been horrified to find out he was letting himself be humored by the person who could so easily claim his birthright in a heartbeat. But that was the thing, wasn't it? Even if Father would shove his legacy at Drake, Drake would never accept it. He was the kind of person content to remain behind the screen, directing field agents through the intricacies of their missions while he sipped at his coffee, and played whatever latest videogame he could get his hands on on his other computer. Damian made a face. He was getting sentimental. Perhaps the air in this city was messing with his mind. 

Minutes later, the convenience store slid into view. 

"…almost quit because of you! He's already stressed, you don't need to terrorize him even further - " 

"Tt. I wasn't terrorizing him." Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was telling the truth, thank you very much. Besides, he knew no amount of terrorizing Stark could force him into quitting. Stark had his pride. Also, the whole premise of Stark-quitting-because-he-was-terrified-of-him was downright ridiculous. Did Drake even hear himself? If Stark really was afraid of him as Drake ridiculously claimed him to be, he'd have quit the day Damian had completed his first week at S.H.I.E.L.D. Shaking his head, he lifted his free hand to push open the door - 

And froze. 

Because walking towards the counter, arms full of snacks, was a face Damian would recognize anywhere. Even with a stupid domino mask on. 

"Brat?" Drake's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?" 

"It's Grayson," he managed to whisper. In hindsight, he was surprised, his voice even remained steady. "He's wearing some sort of ridiculous black spandex costume - " 

"If he is, then he's probably a hero of sorts, which means there should be _no names in the field_ , brat, c'mon. We've been through this loads of times before. That's, like, one rule. The number one rule." He could hear Drake frown from the other end of the line. "And are you even sure it's - " 

"Yes!" he snapped, more forcefully than he intended to. Then he caught himself, and took a deep breath. "It's him, Drake." 

"D, I'm sorry, but you have to go. We have protocols for a reason." Damian scowled as Drake's voice went soft, like he was afraid Damian would suddenly rush inside the store to hug Grayson, or something. 

"Those protocols only apply to time-travel." 

"You still wouldn't gain anything if you'd talk to him. You know that." 

Damian bit his lip. He didn't want to admit it, but his brother was right. What would he gain from talking to the Grayson of this universe? He wasn't even sure if the Grayson here knew him. And if he did, what assurance would Damian get that he wouldn't turn him away like his own Grayson? Because what if the Grayson here was also the same as his own? With a frustrated sigh, he turned on his heel, and trudged towards one of the benches from across the street. 

"Did he see you?" Drake asked. 

He clicked his tongue. "No. And I don't think I'm in the mood for yogurt now." 

A sudden noise from the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

He tried to make himself look busy, but the girls on the other bench were still whispering. His eye twitched. He had a half mind to stalk over and ask them what on earth were they staring at him for, but he wasn't sure if the consequences would be worth it. There were _protocols_ , after all. The girls continued to whisper. He narrowed his gaze at them, but they didn't even flinch. One girl even brought out her phone to - 

Damian's eyes widened. He got to his feet, and hurried away before he could hear the shutter of the camera. What was he, some sort of celebrity in this universe? He knew Drake should've insisted for Zatara to let him bring his phone along. Maybe he could've looked himself up, and found out just why everyone in this damn city kept on staring at him. 

He settled on a secluded bench, far, far away from annoying people who couldn't keep their eyes to themselves. 

"D, what happened?" 

"There were two girls staring at me. And whispering," he admitted, pulling the briefcase closer to his chest. He suddenly hated how small he sounded. 

Call him paranoid, but stares, and hushed whispers had always made him especially uneasy. Not that anyone he knew (save for Tony Stark) was happy to be stared at, and talked about, but to Damian, they brought unpleasant memories he'd rather forget. He wasn't an idiot. He'd heard what the recruits at his three-month stint at the academy had whispered behind his back; and later, what the other agents whispered when they think he's out of earshot. 

_"It shouldn't even be allowed. He's ten, for God's sake. Why is he a field agent?"_

_"Dunno what made him so special. Oh, wait, let me guess: Daddy's money."_

_"Guess being the Director's son has its perks, doesn't it?"_

" - are you listening, brat?" 

Damian swallowed the bile in his throat. He forced himself to push those thoughts in the back of his mind. He can't afford to be distracted now. "I apologize, I didn't catch what you said." 

"I said, maybe they think you're cute?" 

"They looked like they were in their late teens, Drake." He picked at the edges of his jacket. He didn't like how contemplative Drake sounded. 

"No, I mean, like. Maybe they have a crush on the you of this universe." 

Damian paused. "So you're saying I might be older here." 

"It's a possibility." 

"Hm." He pressed his lips into a thin line. If he was older here, and the Grayson here looked like he was the same age as his Grayson, then how old would Drake, and Damian's own counterparts be in this universe? He shook his head. It didn't matter. He had more important things to worry about. "Have you found some information about the briefcase yet?" 

"Yep. I had to hack into B's files, but the briefcase contains a Tesseract shard. It's probably why B wanted to retrieve it. Wouldn't want it to land in the wrong hands." 

He tapped his fingers on the briefcase. "So, I don't need to wait for the portal?"

"Nope. We have...about thirty minutes until Bruce gets back. If you return here in five, I'll play Monk-E Monsters with you." 

"You're on, Drake." Smirking, he got to his feet. He moved to pop open the briefcase, when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He stiffened. He let his free hand drift to his jacket to pull out his knife - 

"Dami? What are you doing here?" 

He turned around, mentally cursing himself for letting his guard down long enough to be spotted, but the words died on his tongue. "Grayson." 

_"No names in the -_ fine. Fine, you know what? I give up. I'm gonna get myself a nice cup of coffee. Don't mess up this universe so much, okay? I believe in you, brat." 

Damian rolled his eyes. And they call _him_ a drama queen when it was Drake who'd obviously spent too much time around Stark. But Grayson was still looking at him like he was expecting an answer. He shifted on his feet. Were Grayson, and his counterpart here close in this universe? He bit the inside of his cheek. If there was one thing Drake told him about parallel universes, it's that there's always a constant in them. So it wasn't a far leap if Grayson, and him were also brothers here, weren't they? "I wanted to get some fresh air." 

Grayson's face softened. He sat down the bench, and patted the space beside him. Damian immediately sat down again. "C'mon, Lil' D, what's wrong? You know you can tell me when something's bothering you."

Damian's throat constricted at the nickname. _His Grayson never…_ Grayson continued to stare patiently - he _knew_ this Grayson was staring at him with look of utmost patience on his face, even with his ridiculous mask on. He tightened his grip around the briefcase. "Nothing. I just - I missed you." 

Grayson chuckled. "Yeah, me, too. Don't tell Timmy, but I'm planning to take three days off next week to spend some time with you guys." 

So the Damian of this universe was also living with Drake. But this Grayson was living somewhere else. In his own apartment, perhaps? Here in Gotham, or a different city? Probably here in Gotham. He seems to be awfully fond of his Drake, and Damian. "That's…good, Grayson. I promise I won't tell Drake." 

"Aww, don't worry, Dames, I know you wouldn't." Grayson lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. "The others never believe me when I tell them you have a heart, y'know." 

Warmth rose to his cheeks at the praise. "Shut up, Grayson." 

Grayson pulled away, raising his hands in mock-surrender. "Shutting up now." 

They drifted into silence. Damian found himself staring at this Grayson, subconsciously looking for the similarities with his own. Still the same hair, the same body build, the same personality whenever his Grayson didn't have one of his episodes. But that was where the similarities ended because this Grayson... This Grayson seemed happier, somehow. Less tired. And his costume, obviously, was a far cry from the hooded costume Moonwing was known for. For a split-second, Damian couldn't help but wonder if this Grayson even knew he wasn't talking to his Damian. Grayson was far from stupid; and Damian wasn't sure if his behavior was similar to the behavior of his own counterpart in this universe. Ugh, he knew he should've listened to Drake. Nothing good would come out of interacting with the people he knew in other universes. 

A cold wind blew through the street. Damian shivered. He was about to tug his jacket closer to himself, but Grayson had already reached out to tug it closer for him. "I…" He raised his head to meet Grayson's gaze. "Thank you." 

Grayson broke into an achingly familiar grin. "No problem." 

The brief respite was interrupted by Grayson suddenly pulling his hand away, fingers going to his ear. Damian resisted the urge to sigh. A comm piece. Of course. He watched Grayson's expression shift from relaxed, to resigned in a span of ten seconds. "There's been a break-out. Sorry, Lil' D, but I gotta go. Justice calls." 

"Wait," Damian blurted out. Grayson turned around. "Do you know that I'm..." 

Grayson tilted his head. "That you're from a parallel universe? Yeah. But it doesn't matter, does it? You're still my brother." 

His heart leapt to his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but Grayson had already left. 

"So," Drake's voice cut through the pounding in his ears, "do you wanna go home? 'Cause B's gonna be here in about ten minutes, and I don't even want to know how Dick knows you're not from there - " 

"Yes," he said. 

"Huh." Drake sounded taken aback. "I take it your conversation went well?" 

Damian bit his lower lip. He took a deep breath to stop the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He was better than this. A five-minute interaction with a sane version of his brother shouldn't have left him so _weak._ "You're right, Drake. Much as I loathe to admit it, you're right." 

Drake fell silent. "Let's just get you home, brat - " 

"I thought B had benched you, demon spawn." 

Hastily shoving all thoughts of Grayson out of his mind, Damian turned around. A figure stepped out of the shadows. The light from the streetlamp threw the figure's red helmet into sharp relief. 

"Jesus, who is it now?" Drake groaned. 

Damian ignored his handler in favor of squinting at this... Red Skull look-alike person, if Red Skull's head was a helmet. He looked to be about Father's height, with a brown leather jacket, and an obviously muscular build. Damian frowned. Something about the way the Red Skull look-alike held himself seemed familiar. And there was also the way he talked. Even if he was using a voice modulator, there was something about the way he talked which reminded Damian of the old videos he'd seen about - 

It clicked. 

"Todd," he breathed quietly. 

Either it must've been the wrong thing to say, or something must've shown on his face, because Todd took a step towards him. Damian automatically reached for the hilt of his knife. But to his surprise, Todd didn't move any closer, and just crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey, what's with you tonight? B's week-long sentence getting to your head?" 

"Wait, did you say Todd?" 

He almost missed Drake's question. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. He had to stop himself from actually pulling out his knife, and flinging it at Todd. 

" _Jason Todd?_ Like, _Deathlok_ Jason Todd?" 

Damian clicked his tongue impatiently to signify _yes, Drake, keep up, dammit,_ because what other Jason Todd did they know? 

"Shit." Drake sucked in a sharp breath. "D, listen. You have to get out of there. If he really is Jason Todd, then you have to go. Now. He's bad news." 

He resisted the urge to snap that he _knows_ who Jason Todd is. He'd read his file. Thrice. Mentally, he ran through everything he knew about Todd. 

Todd was Grayson's protégé. He was recruited by the agency at 13 years old, and was set to become the next Moonwing while Grayson went to Oxford. S.H.I.E.L.D. had dismissed him after a mission gone wrong, and he'd blamed Father, and Grayson for his disgrace. He'd been presumed dead when he was caught in a bomb detonated by Hyena. Drake, who'd been a S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit at the time, volounteered to be trained as Moonwing in Todd's place. Father, and Grayson refused, and had Drake trained in agent handling instead. But it turned out Todd survived. Became the HYDRA agent Deathlok. Had half his limbs replaced by cybernetic parts. Last Damian heard, he attempted to murder Grayson during S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ground assault against HYDRA Base Omega. 

If worse came to worse, he'd have to knock him out. The Todd here didn't appear to be part-cyborg, but if his past is anything like the Jason Todd's past in their universe, then Damian would be, as Fury often put it, _goddamn fucking screwed._

Gritting his teeth, Damian turned his attention back to Todd. Todd seemed to be listening in on something, but the moment he saw Damian straighten up, he snapped to attention. "So. O's just updated me about a missing briefcase from the police station..." 

Damian's blood ran cold. 

"Fuck," Drake muttered. "D, run." 

He didn't need to tell him twice. Tucking the briefcase closer to himself, he turned on his heel, and ran. 

He wasn't an idiot. Todd would catch up sooner or later. He knew these streets better than Damian did. If only he was still in New York - 

A large shadow dropped in front of him, forcing him to screech to a halt. 

"Don't - " Drake began, but Damian didn't have _time_ to listen. Blood pounding in his ears, he drew out his knife, and aimed for the juncture between Todd's ribs - 

Nimble fingers grabbed his arm, twisting his elbow to the side. The knife disappeared from his grasp. A knee slammed against his stomach. He grunted, doubling over. Gasped for air. Managed to wrench his arm from Todd's hold. Raised the briefcase just high enough to swing it at his face - 

But Todd, who obviously has all of his limbs intact here, was faster. Before Damian could bring down the briefcase, Todd had swept his feet from underneath him. He felt his grip on the briefcase waver. A split-second later, he lost his momentum, and hit the ground. _Hard._ Gods, Madame Hydra would be disappointed. 

Bright blue light began to eminate from the briefcase. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a curse in Arabic. No doubt the briefcase had snapped open from the force of the impact. 

" - told you to run, not fight! God, I'm gonna need more coffee for this... Do not, I repeat, _do not_ apprehend Jason Todd. You can't take him. What you need to do is retreat, find a secluded area, grab the shard, and return here as soon as possible. Retreat, secluded area, shard. Copy?" 

He opened his eyes with a scowl. He was certain he could hold his own against Todd, but with the unexpected addition of the damn Tesseract... 

"What the hell, demon spawn? What'd you attack me for?! And is that fucking _blue_ kryptonite?!" 

"Shit - Damian, get out of there!" 

He propped himself up on his elbows. "No names in the field, Drake." 

"This is _so_ not the time, Dami - " 

He reached for the shard. Closed his fingers around it. 

"What the fuck are you doing - " 

The world disappeared around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim hates magic. Damian just hates Zach for stranding them in a parallel universe.

"What I don't understand," Damian growled, voice echoing around the empty entrance hall, "is why we have to get it for him when he could send someone like Parker to do it instead." 

Tim rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him. "Pete actually goes to school, y'know. He isn't Tony's intern full-time." 

"Still." Damian glared up at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Brat, what's got into you today? I thought you liked to drop by the Mansion - " Damian gave a slight flinch. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't have been visible, but Tim had been babysitting the brat for four years. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Tim moved closer to Damian to place a hand on his shoulder. "Is this about Bruce? Because if you're scared he'll find out you disobeyed him, then - " 

Damian bristled. He wrenched his shoulder from Tim's grasp. "I never said I was afraid!" 

" - I'll take the blame for you," Tim finished patiently, reaching forward to place his hand on Damian's shoulder again. "Okay, brat?" 

Damian's eyes widened. "You're going to do that..for me?" 

Tim tightened his grip on Damian's shoulder. Sometimes, it was easy to forget the kid didn't have the easiest childhood. He grew up with Madame Hydra as a mentor, for Christ's sake. He'd been trained to kill people before he could learn how to walk. The fact he had people who cared for his well-being had been an unfamiliar concept to him until the night Tim had sat him down, and explained it was normal for friends, and family members to care for each other. "Of course I will, Dami. Besides, I doubt B would actually get mad since technically, you only disobeyed him on Tony's orders." 

Tim grinned when he saw the exact moment it clicked for Damian. 

"You asked Stark to let me help you grab the report." 

"Yeah." He nodded. "I figured you were about to rot with boredom in the penthouse." 

Damian scrunched up his face. "It wasn't all bad. I was able to spend more time on my drawings." 

Tim pretended to look thoughtful. "Is that so? Hmm, maybe I'll just leave you alone the next time B grounds you - " 

"Thank you," Damian blurted out. 

"What?" Tim cupped a hand around his ear. "I didn't catch it." 

The brat rolled his eyes. "Tt. You heard what I said." 

"I was _joking_ , D. Sheesh." Tim ruffled Damian's hair, earning a squawk of protest from the brat. "But you're welcome." 

The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature dropped. The smell of sulfur hit his nostrils. His eyes widened. Shit. As if reading his thoughts, the air behind Damian began to crackle - 

Tim immediately pulled his brother away to try, and make a run for it, but the floor was already disappearing from underneath them. 

_ 

"...wake up. Timothy, wake up." 

With great difficulty, he opened his eyes. Damian stared down at him, brows furrowed. "Da…Dami? Where are we?" Then he caught sight of the entrance hall, and the bottom dropped from his stomach. "Shit. We're not - we're not in the Mansion." 

"Brilliant observation," Damian said dryly, but Tim didn't miss the note of concern in his brother's voice. "The portal had transported us to Earth-0. Please remind me to kill Zatara when we get back." 

Tim, who was in the process of propping himself up on his elbows, almost slipped back down marbled tiles. "Zatanna? Why'd you wanna kill her?" 

"Not Zatanna," Damian hissed. "Her stupid cousin." 

Tim had successfully propped himself up into a sitting position, but his head still hurt and he couldn't process whatever Damian's trying to say. "Why?"

"Because," Damian snarled, and Christ, his voice was _not_ helping with Tim's focus, "it was his stupid portal that dragged us into this mess in the first place!" 

Tim immediately shushed the brat. The last thing they'd want was to have this mansion's occupants discovering them, and turning them over to the police for trespassing. "How'd you even know it was Zach?" 

Damian gave him an impatient look. "I recognized the portal. It had the same magical signature as the spell he placed on my watch when I made the jump here three weeks ago." 

"Right. Three weeks ago." The haze in Tim's mind started to clear. If they were on Earth-0 like Damian said, maybe they could find Bruce, and ask him to help them get back to their universe. They could book a ticket to Manhattan, look for Bruce, ask him for help, then bam! Problem solved. "D'you still have the cash Bruce gave you for emergencies?" 

Damian arched a brow. "Yes, but we cannot leave, Timothy." 

"Why can't we - oh. We have to stay where we are. Gotcha." It was practically rule #2 when you were accidentally stuck in a parallel universe. S.H.I.E.L.D. would have a harder time locating them if they did leave for New York. "Okay, then change of plans. What d'you say to a lil' adventure inside the mansion?" The brat's eyebrow arched higher. "What? It's not like we're leaving. Besides, what if the owners are friendly?" 

Damian stared at him. Tim stared back with all the patience he'd collected through the four years of having Damian Wayne as both his charge in the field, and his little brother. After what seemed to be an eternity, the brat's furious expression finally crumbled. 

"Fine," he snapped. "I swear, only you would be naïve enough to think the occupants of the house we are currently trespassing in would not turn us over to the police." 

"Maybe they wouldn't if we explained our situation," Tim offered. Damian snorted. Yeah, he knew the chance the occupants of this huge-ass not-Mansion would believe them was slim, but they could at least try, couldn't they? 

"And if they don't believe us?" Damian asked. 

"I'll deal with it," he promised. The brat grumbled under his breath. Tim pretended not to hear him in favor of asking, "You still got your knife?" 

Damian's eyes lit up at the question. The sight almost made Tim want to pinch his brother's cheeks, and coo at him. "Of course I do. What kind of field agent do you think I am?' 

"An adorable one." 

His brother's face contorted into an expression not unlike Bruce's whenever Tony referred to him as anything other than their stoic director. "Just…don't, Timothy." 

He held up his hands in a gesture of mock-surrender. "Okay, okay. Now, would you mind helping me up, or…?" 

With a loud sigh, Damian grabbed his hands, and hauled him to his feet. 

_ 

Tim had never felt more lost before in the last four years he's been an active agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. It was ridiculous; he was one of the best handlers, for Christ's sake. He'd helped Damian navigate through places worse than a freakin' mansion. Agent Drake didn't get lost. 

"Are you sure we haven't passed by this hallway yet?" 

He tried not to wince as Damian's voice bounced off the sleek walls. "Actually, I'm more concerned that we haven't seen anyone when we've been walking for like, what? Twenty minutes now?" 

"Thirty," Damian replied, falling into step beside him. "Also, I refuse to believe the security system hasn't detected us." 

Tim made a noise of agreement as they passed by another door. He was aware of Damian's attempt to change the topic, and gladly accepted it. "Maybe they just have a shitty security system?" 

"Tt. Even Kaplan and his boyfriend's apartment has a better security system than this place." 

"I hate to admit it, but you're right." He glanced at the next room for some sigh of life, then screeched to a halt as a familiar face caught his eye. "The heck?" Furrowing his eyebrows, he stepped closer towards the door, and pushed it wider. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

Situated above the fireplace was a portrait of Bruce himself. 

But he wasn't alone. Around him stood five other people in neatly-pressed black suits. Or, in the Asian girl's case, a long-sleeved dress. With a jolt, Tim recognized Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian, and… 

"It's us, Timothy." 

He jumped at the brat's voice. Christ, he didn't even realize he'd followed him inside. "Dami, shit. We have to go. We can't be - " 

The brat stared up at him with a flat, indifferent expression. "Does it matter? There's no other choice. You said it yourself. We can't leave." 

Tim stared at his brother. "The protocols - " he began. 

Damian glared back at him with the same indifferent expression he'd often associated with Talia. "Our situation's an exception to the rule."

Tim broke eye-contact to chew on his bottom lip. "Okay. Okay, yeah, you have a point." Damian narrowed his eyes. "No, you do, D. And okay, I may have been overreacting, because it's not like Fury would kill us. We'll just have to explain everything to him." 

(Fury _would_ understand. Bruce would, too. Who cares about the protocols when their situation's messed up enough as it is? Christ, and Tim thought he'd be spending the rest of the afternoon in the penthouse pouring over the latest videogame he'd purchased with Bruce's credit card, not trapped in a parallel universe with his brother. Loki's probably laughing at him somewhere, the ass.) 

"Fury can wait," Damian agreed. Tim resisted the urge to flick the brat's forehead because _Jesus_ , the brat was Fury's favorite, so of course Fury wouldn't chew him out. No, Tim's actually the one who'd be on the receiving end of his...fury. Haha. Good one, he'll have to tell Billy about it when they returned. "Now, tell me what you think about Todd being our apparent brother in this universe." 

Tim turned back to the portrait. Weirdly enough, Todd had blue eyes instead of brown, making his resemblance to Bruce even more jarring. Upon closer inspection, the people in the portrait (Tim's siblings?) could all pass off as Bruce's children. Must be the eyes, and the hair. Or maybe they really were Bruce's biological children? But it would mean B slept around a lot… Tim grimaced at the thought. He glanced at the brat. "I can't believe he's - " 

"Tim? Damian?" 

His heart leapt to his throat. The owner of the voice - the Asian girl in the portrait, he belatedly realized, stood in the doorway. In one swift motion, Tim stepped in front of his brother to hide him from view. Damian scoffed loudly. Tim pretended not to hear him. 

The girl tilted her head to the side. "You're not them." 

"We're from a parallel universe," Damian smoothly chimed in. Tim's eyes widened. He tightened his grip around his brother's arm, but the brat didn't even seem to notice. Stupid HYDRA training. "Are you our sister here?" 

To Tim's surprise, the tension seemed to drain from the girl's shoulders. She straightened up, still regarding them with the look that sent a slight chill down Tim's spine. "Yes. My name is Cassandra, but you can call me Cass." 

"Cass," Tim repeated. The name sounded light on his tongue. Briefly, he wondered if they have a Cass in their universe. Maybe he could ask Babs to look her up. "Nice to meet you." 

"You, too," she replied. Then, in a softer voice, added, "Damian?" 

Before Tim could stop him, the brat twisted himself out of his grasp. "Nice to meet you, Cassandra." 

She gave a curt nod. "My… Tim, and Damian are gone. Your… counterparts here - my brothers - vanished, about half an hour ago." 

Tim blinked. Dami, and him landed about half an hour ago, which means… "Yeah, that was a mistake from our side," he admitted. "We must've swapped places with them, if the timing was anything to go by. Blame our friend's unstable magic. But as long as he went straight to his superior - " 

"Oh, please," Damian muttered. 

He spared the brat a dirty look. "Damian. Okay, I know he fucked up, but that doesn't mean you get to talk shit about him. He's still our friend, y'know? Besides, as long as he informed T about the portal, we'd be back in our own universe by the end of the day." 

The brat rolled his eyes, but snapped his mouth shut. Zach might have a huge enough ego to rival Tony's, but he wasn't stupid. He'd have rushed to Zatanna the moment he realized the Tim, and Damian inside the Mansion were from a parallel universe. 

"You're…fond of each other," Cass spoke up, drawing Tim's attention back to her. 

The curious look on her face made him chuckle. "Kinda hard not to be when I've been babysitting this brat for years." He yelped as an elbow made contact with his ribs. "What the hell, D? That hurts!" 

"Tt." 

Cass definitely looked amused now. "Is there anything I can do? To… help my brothers return?" 

"No, our superiors will take care of it," Damian replied. Tim couldn't help but roll his eyes (fondly) at his brother's clipped voice. "Are you familiar with dimension-travelling protocols? I assume you do, since you didn't appear to be surprised when I mentioned we aren't from this universe." 

"I am," Cass confirmed. "The two of you can stay in the Manor." 

Tim let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. "Oh, thank God. We won't bother you, I swear." 

"No, it's okay." Cass waved him off. Then her eyes lit up. "Do you…want to meet someone?" 

Tim exchanged a look with the brat. It wouldn't hurt to spend time with their sister from a parallel universe, right? "Yeah, sure." 

_ 

He cleared his throat. He'd lost count of the number of rooms they passed by about five minutes ago. Was the not-Mansion magic, or something? "Hey, uh." 

Cass slowed down. She tilted her head to the side. "Yes?" 

He ignored Damian's curious look from the corner of his vision as he focused his attention on Cass. "Can I ask you a question?" 

Cass nodded, bangs falling over her eyes. She lifted a hand to brush them out of her face, and tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ear. "Of course." 

He chewed on his lower lip. "Where's Bruce?" 

"Bruce is in Paris," Cass replied slowly. "For work." 

Tim exchanged a look with Damian. "Then who're you taking us to?" 

"Jason." 

He stopped in his tracks. An uneasy feeling churned in his gut. "Jason Todd? Why?" 

If Cass noticed his distasteful tone, she didn't comment on it. "Dick is busy. I… texted him, but." She gave a shrug. "He won't come until later. Jason is the - next best thing." 

Tim gawked at her. Okay, he knew he was being unprofessional, but it's not like Cass could blame him. Finding out he had siblings other than Damian in this universe was weird enough, but apparently, they were currently on their way to meet Jason Todd. Jason Todd, who was a bad guy in their universe, and whom Tim wasn't even sure was a good guy in this one. "So you're saying he's here now? In the mansion?" 

"Manor," Damian corrected quickly. 

"Manor, then?" Tim said. "Hey, can you give us a minute?" At Cass' nod, he pulled his brother to the side of the hallway. "Brat, I'm sorry, but do you really want to meet this universe's Jason Todd again?" 

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. "Tt. What happened to you? I'm normally the more paranoid out of the two of us." 

Tim resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "This isn't a joke, Dami. What if their Todd's really like the Todd of our universe? Because in case you forgot, he almost killed you." 

Damian gave him a pointed look. "If he is as...evil as you say he is, then Cassandra wouldn't bother introducing him, would she?" 

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Okay, the brat had a point. Maybe Tim was overreacting. Maybe this parallel universe was messing with his mind. Besides, it's not like he can't take Todd if he did turn out to be a bad guy. Tim might be a handler, but he still trained at the academy. "Yeah, you're right. You're right, Dames. I just… Jesus, maybe Fury's rants about being vigilant, and shit at the academy is finally starting to sink in." 

Damian, the brat, had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Look, Timothy, I'll deal with Todd if everything goes wrong. Okay?" 

"Excuse you, that's supposed to be my line!" 

"Too late." The corners of Damian's lips tugged into a rueful grin. Tim could feel himself returning the grin; the tension draining from his body at the echo of their usual banter. "Besides, I'm the one who has more experience in the field." Before Tim could open his mouth to protest again, Damian had already grabbed his arm to tug him back to Cass. "We apologize for the delay." 

Cass nodded. "It's no problem. Let's continue?" 

But the uneasy feeling in Tim's gut lingered with every step he took. Finally, they stopped in front of a large pair of double doors. Cass pushed a door open, and gestured for them to follow her. 

The scent of old books hit his nostrils. For the upteenth time today, Tim felt his jaw drop. 

He wasn't a huge fan of literature, but he had to admit, the library looked impressive. It reminded him of the library at the St Florian Monastary at Austria - minus the paintings on the ceiling. He almost forgot about the uneasy feeling in his stomach - 

Until his gaze landed on the guy seated on the couch. 

"You!" The guy - Todd, and Jesus, the portrait wasn't lying; he did have a white streak in his hair - leapt to his feet.

In a split-second, Tim had shoved Damian behind him, and reached for the pistol hidden inside his jacket. He didn't dare budge even as Todd took a step towards them. His heart hammered loudly in his chest, but he pretended not to hear it, choosing instead to narrow his eyes at Todd. 

Todd gave a low whistle, gaze fixed on his gun. "Gotta admit, you've got guts, Timmy. What kinda world did you two come from?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim, and Damian have waffles with their siblings from another universe.

He clenched his jaw. "Whatever world we come from is classified information." 

Todd barked out a laugh. Tim tightened his grip around his pistol at the sound. Todd's laugh wasn't unnerving, per se, just... there was something about it that made the uneasy feeling in his chest return full-force. "Seriously? The two of ya had probably broke 'bout half the protocols when you talked to Cass. What's wrong with telling us where you came from?" 

"Timothy." Fingers tugged at the back of his jacket. 

A noise of irritation bubbled up his throat. "Not now, Dames." He shifted his attention back to Todd. "Protocol is protocol. If you have a problem with it..." he trailed off with a pointed glance at his gun. 

"Huh." Todd tilted his head to the side. "Never thought I'd live to see the day Timbo wouldn't hesitate to kill me." 

Before Tim could open his mouth to respond, fingers tugged at the back of his jacket again. "Timothy. Much as I loathe to admit it, Todd has a point. We've already broken the protocols." 

Tim gritted his teeth. "Brat, you don't understand. They are literally _protocols_ for a reason - " 

"You agreed to break them," Damian retorted. "Todd isn't looking for a fight. He wants to talk. Trust me." 

After a moment of tense silence, Tim gave in. He _did_ trust his brother, and he'd learned to follow Damian's instincts without much resistance years ago. With a loud sigh, he stashed his gun back inside his jacket, just as Damian stepped out from behind him to stand by his side. He lifted his chin to meet Todd's gaze again, and forced a fake smile. "Sorry, we definitely got off on the wrong foot. To answer your question, Dami, and I came from Earth-9602." 

"See?" Todd drawled. "That wasn't so hard." He yelped when Cass jabbed his ribs. "Okay, okay, geez." As he straightened up, Tim couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the white streak in Todd's hair. He had a feeling it wasn't just a fashion statement. "Nice jacket, demon-spawn-from-another-world." 

Tim grabbed Damian's arm before the brat could try to murder Todd. "Can you stop with the nicknames? We don't really know each other, and - " 

"Yeah, yeah." Todd waved him off. "I'm the bad guy in your world. I know, Timbo, you can cut the bullshit." 

He narrowed his eyes at Todd. Was the guy deliberately riling them up, or was he just an ass? Tim himself didn't have the patience of a saint, but dealing with Damian had made him much more patient than most people, and Todd was fucking _testing_ his patience. "Cass, can we go?" 

"You're no fun." 

"Jay." 

Todd turned to his sister. "You're no fun, either." 

"Wrong. I'm...careful." The way she said the word had Tim guessing if it was an inside joke she shared with Todd. 

Judging by the gleam in Todd's eyes, it was. "Damn right you are, Cass." The corners of Todd's lips quirked up into a smirk. "So, Timbo. You wanna share the rest of your story here, or somewhere else?" 

"Kitchen," Cass spoke up. Tim glanced at her. "If you...want to," she added. 

"We do," Damian replied. "Timothy?" 

"What he said." 

"Alright." Todd gave a pleased nod. "You can stop judging me, Timmy. I ain't gonna kill the demon spawn. Or you." 

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Are you always like this?" 

"Nah, I'm just worried the real Timbo, and Damian wouldn't come back, and we'd be stuck with you instead." Todd paused, smirk widening. He definitely didn't miss the spike of irritation in Tim's voice - not like Tim made much of an effort to hide it. 

"Jay, enough." Relief bloomed in Tim's chest at the clear warning in Cass' tone. At least somebody in this universe has a decent head on their shoulders. 

Damian snorted from beside him. "You've got a funny way of showing it, Todd." 

Oh, _Jesus._

"Hm?" All traces of amusement had faded from Todd's posture. Tim instinctively made a grab for his pistol again. "What'd you say, demon spawn?" 

"I said - " 

Tim seized his brother's arm with his free hand, ignoring Damian's low growl. "Damian, don't." 

Todd arched a brow. "You know, I never noticed it earlier, and - sure, it's not like I have room to talk, but you don't exactly look the most stable with a gun, Replacement." 

Fuck. 

Tim's heart stuttered in his chest as his brother tore his arm from his grip and launched himself straight at Todd. 

_Christ_ , how many times did he have to tell him not to be so reckless? He'd have thought the brat would've at least grown out of it; Bruce had been nagging his ear off about his recklessness for years. With an exasperated groan, he stashed his gun back inside his jacket, and stomped towards the fight to pull his brat of a brother off of some parallel universe version of Jason fucking Todd. 

When did this even become his life? Crazy shit - the real, crazier shit, at least - only happened to superheroes, not random civilians like Tim. (Okay, he wasn't a civilian, but _still._ He doubted America or Kate had ever been stranded in a parallel universe because Zach had messed up again.) 

"Tim." He jumped at the feather-light touch on his elbow. He turned to meet Cass' gaze. "I'm sorry. I… do you want me to help?" 

He gave her the patented calm smile he reserves for civilians whenever things get downright ugly and he has to be deployed to the field. It's the smile Tony had taught him, the one where he pretends everything isn't going to shit, _it'll be alright, don't worry, no, Thor hasn't been blasted into the sky by those alien-looking creatures - _fine_ , he was, we'll get somebody to check up on him later._ "I can handle it." 

He turned his attention back to the fight. Todd had the upper-hand, of course, but… huh. He could tell the guy wasn't really taking Damian seriously. (He didn't know whether to be grateful, or offended on his brother's behalf.) Tim gave an impressed hum as Todd effortlessly blocked Damian's knife. So the guy was actually a decent fighter. Granted, he had an inkling of what Todd was capable of when Damian told him about their brief encounter during the Tesseract fiasco, but to see Todd fight in person almost made him wonder what could've happened if their Jason Todd had never been fired from S.H.I.E.L.D. 

For starters, Tim probably wouldn't have to put up with a whole bunch of crazy shit on his supposed afternoon off. Unfortunately, what's done was done. He's made his decision years ago; he had no choice but to deal with all the crap that came with the job, accidental dimension travel trips included. Shaking his head, he moved forward to pull Damian off of Todd. "Brat, stop it." 

"No!" The brat continued to struggle in his grip. "Let me go! Let me go, damn you! I'll kill him!" 

He ignored the brat's screeches to drag him to the other side of the library, far, far away from Todd. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he suddenly started to lecture the brat, no matter how much he wanted to. Damian didn't respond well to lectures. Or accusations of any kind, really. 

"Damian," he began in a firm voice. But Damian stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Tim could feel his disappointment crumbling. "Dames. Dames, c'mon. Look at me." 

Still no response. Mouth set into a hard line, Tim lifted a hand to place it on his brother's shoulder. When Damian didn't recoil, he reached up to brush the brat's fringe out of his eyes. "D, c'mon. What were you even thinking? He could've hurt you." 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. 

"Hurt me?" The brat's stoic expression twisted into a snarl. 

Tim jerked back to hold up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Christ, parenting your baby brother was hard. "I didn't say you couldn't take him - " 

"He was insulting your honor! I will not let it be tolerated!" 

Will not let his honor be what - oh.

_Oh._

Oh, wow. This was unexpected. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. So his efforts to make his brother capable of feeling emotions other than murderous rage really did pay off. He was definitely going to rub the fact he managed to turn one of HYDRA's living weapons into an awesome, kind-hearted, badass son, and little brother in Talia's face the next time they meet. But just because the brat finally admitted he loved him as much as Tim loved the brat doesn't mean he was going to let Damian off so easily. "Dami, I appreciate what you did, but you know I can stand up for myself. Besides, what if Todd _did_ manage to hurt you? What would I tell B? And seriously, if you couldn't kick the guy's ass the last time you picked a fight with him, what made you think you have a chance now?" 

Damian gave a loud huff, and slumped against the wall with a resigned expression. An adorably resigned expression, complete with his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. "I hate you, Timothy." 

"Yeah, yeah. Come here, you little liar." He spread his arms in a gesture of invitation, which Damian took as a cue to peel himself from the wall, and fall into the hug. Whoever said his younger brother wasn't capable of being cute was wrong on so many levels. 

"It's alright, brat." He rubbed the brat's back. "You're still the best field agent I've ever known." 

"You're the best handler I've ever had as well," Damian murmured, voice muffled against his shoulder. 

Tim let the corners of his lips lift at what had become an inside joke for the both of them. "Only because I'm the only handler who could put you in your place. The new recruits are scared of you. What did you even do to them?" 

"Tt. Nothing much." 

He rolled his eyes. _Nothing much_ practically meant _I threatened those idiots to do their best or else_ for Damian. "Just...don't try to antagonize them, okay? God knows we don't need any more recruits quitting." 

Damian pulled away give him a dirty look. Once upon a time, the look had been the bane of Tim's existence. "If they made the cut, then you know they shouldn't have a reason to be scared of me." 

"Brat, no offense, but they haven't had prior training before they've been dumped at the academy like you did, so maybe you could cut them some slack?" 

The brat let his head fall back against his shoulder. "Fine." 

"Knew I could count on you." Tim ruffled his brother's hair with his free hand. Despite the brat's numerous complaints with regards to everything Tim asked him to do, they were always more for show rather than actual resistance. 

The brat raised his head to give him a dirty look again. "Gordon put you up to this, didn't she?" 

"Tony, actually." He brushed back the brat's hair once more. Sure, Babs had nagged him to ask Damian to lay it off because God knows they don't need any more recruits quitting, but it was Tony who'd been on the verge of tearing his hair out, and Tony wasn't even in charge of the recruits. "You ready to talk to Todd?" 

Damian untangled himself from the hug. He stared at Tim for a long moment. "As long as he doesn't insult you…" 

Tim reached out to adjust the collar of his brother's jacket. "Don't worry, D. The jerk already got what he wanted from us." 

"Which is?" 

"Holy _fuck._ " 

He whipped around at the voice. 

Todd's bewildered expression almost made up for the stupid stunt he pulled in the first place. Almost. "I can't believe Cass was right." 

Tim rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I realized what you were trying to do, or I wouldn't have hesitated to put a bullet through your brain, you asshole." 

"Fuck you, I had to see it for myself," Todd snapped, like baiting the parallel universe counterparts of his so-called brothers because he didn't believe they actually loved each other instead of just asking like a normal person wasn't a dick move for everyone involved. "I mean, our demon spawn dislikes Replacement with every fiber of his being, and vice versa. No way you two didn't feel the same." His face split into a shit-eating grin. "But no hard feelings, eh, Timbo?" 

Tim gave him the middle finger. 

_ 

Okay, so Todd wasn't much of an asshole as he initially thought he was. In fact, something about him reminded Tim of Tommy, but he can't pinpoint exactly what. Todd had served them waffles after a suggestion from Cass; apparently, the guy was a decent cook. 

"You're not joking. You don't have an Alfred Pennyworth in your world?" 

He rolled his eyes at Todd's horrified look. Seriously, Todd was more dramatic than Tony, and Tony was, like, the second most dramatic person Tim knew. (First place goes to Bruce, of course.) "We _told_ you, it's only been me, this brat, and B since forever. Tony joins us for dinner sometimes, but that's it." 

"Then at least tell me you have a Stephanie Brown." 

He furrowed his eyebrows. _Stephanie Brown?_ It was a familiar name, but he can't remember where he'd last heard it. 

"She was a recruit," Damian spoke up. Tim stared at his brother in surprise. "She applied for the academy at the same time as Timothy, but she didn't make the cut." Damian's grip tightened around his fork. "Enough about our world. What are Timothy, and I like in this universe?" 

"Well, you're not super spies, obviously," Todd said around a mouthful of waffles. 

"Ignore him," Cass chimed in. Tim didn't miss the hint of fond exasperation in her voice. "We're - vigilantes. The whole family is." 

…Okay, that was definitely not what he expected their counterparts to be. On the bright side, at least they weren't part of the mafia-slash-heroes-for-hire syndicate like he originally thought when he saw the family portrait earlier. But vigilantes? Really? He couldn't even imagine himself running around Manhattan in a costume like Peter, stopping muggers and saving cats from trees or whatever it is vigilantes did. 

"Vigilantes?" He met the brat's perplexed gaze. "Like Deadpool?" 

"The hell is Deadpool?" 

The brat broke eye contact to sneer at Todd. "I wasn't talking to you - " 

"Robin," Cass interrupted, pointing at Damian. "You're Robin here." Tim mentally sent her a huge thanks. He didn't think he could handle it if Damian demanded a rematch with Todd inside the spotless kitchen. He was pretty sure the counter alone costs two hundred thousand dollars. "Tim is Red Robin." 

It took a moment for the information to sink in. "Wait, what? Red Robin? Like, the restaurant?" 

"Yep. Sucks to be you, really." Todd, the asshole, was definitely enjoying the conversation. Tim resisted the urge to shoot him a dirty look. 

"It's…not the best of names," the brat confessed, drawing Tim's attention back to his brother. "But it has a nice ring to it." 

Todd made a choked noise. Or maybe he just choked on his waffles. Served him right. "Christ, did the gremlin just…? I can't be the only one finding this weird, can I?" 

"It's nice," Cass commented quietly. She seemed to be biting back a smile. "You know it's nice, Jay." 

Tim pointed his fork at Todd. "Basically, what you're saying is you could never picture us not hating each other." 

Todd held up his hands in a gesture of mock-surrender. "Don't blame me. The demon spawn tried to kill you - our Timbo, I mean - more times than I ever did." 

Jesus. Well, he supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, with the number of times his Dami tried to kill him in his first week at the penthouse? He'd lost count on the third day. 

"Were you two also...?" Cass tilted her head to the side. 

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, Dames, and I weren't on the best of terms when he came to live with us. Little shit tried to poison me in my sleep three nights in a row." He ruffled the brat's hair with his free hand. "But he grew out of it." 

The brat batted away his hand. "You know, I could still try to kill you if you want me to." 

"Uh-huh." He arched a brow at the brat. "Then who's gonna save your ass on the field?" 

"Tt." Damian looked away after about fifteen seconds. "Tell me about Father, Cass." 

Tim cleared his throat. "Ahem." 

The tips of his brother's ears went pink. "Please." 

Cass, to her credit, looked amused. The corners of her mouth twitched behind her straw. "Bruce is...Batman. The Dark Knight. Also the World's Greatest Detective." 

The Dark Knight, huh? Tim abandoned his waffles to lean forward. _Now_ he was interested. The Dark Knight sounded like an ominous title. His waffles could wait. "Body count?" 

"Body...?" Cass' forehead creased. "Batman doesn't kill." 

Tim stared at her. It wasn't a question. "He doesn't? Then what does he do?" 

"Jesus Christ." Todd's jaw had gone slack. "He kills in your world?" 

"Obviously." Tim didn't have to look at Damian to know the brat was rolling his eyes. 

"Oh my God, this is priceless!" To Tim's surprise, Todd pulled out a phone from inside his jacket, and began to fumble with it. "Cass, can you introduce B to Timmy again? And Timmy, you gotta ask _body count_ with your most serious face. Bet ya ten bucks everyone will have an aneurysm when I send this to the group chat - " 

"Jason," Cass said, her voice dripping with exasperation again. "Bruce will cancel your credit card." 

Todd waved her off. "Don't care. I can't fucking wait to see Dickie's reaction..." 

Tim dropped his fork. _Fuck._ He almost forgot about Dick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in another universe...

The man from across him was nothing like Bruce.

It was the first thought that appeared, unprompted, in his mind. For starters, the Bruce here held himself different; his face also held no warmth Tim had come to associate with his adopted dad through the years he'd been a Wayne. It was, obviously, very weird. And alarming. But mostly weird.

Granted, the whole fuckin' afternoon had been a ride, but a Bruce who was the director of some sort of international agency (the details were hazy; he wasn't paying particularly close attention when Zatara gave them the rundown) was probably the cherry on top of the cake. It beat the news the Teen Titans didn't exist here by a huge margin.

"Where's Grayson?" Damian interrupted, forcing Tim to shift his attention to him. "Assuming he exists in this world, of course."

Tim glanced back at Bruce. The blank expression on Bruce's face didn't waver. "I'm afraid it's classified information, Damian."

"What about Todd?" the demon brat demanded. "If you say it's also classified - "

Tim decided to chime in before things got worse. He didn't have enough information on this world's counterpart of Bruce to establish a good enough read on him. "Bruce, please. We just want to get back."

"My subordinates are working on a way to get you back. No need to worry. In the meantime..." Bruce cleared his throat. "Agent Hill?"

Tim turned around. The dark-haired woman from earlier - the one with the pixiecut - stood by the doorway, hand propped on her hip. "Will they be staying at the penthouse, sir?"

He couldn't help but frown. The penthouse? Why not the Manor instead?

"The penthouse wouldn't be suitable," Bruce replied. "They'll be staying at the Mansion."

_

All he can say was he's glad he'd charged his phone before the portal sucked them in.

"Batman doesn't exist here."

He watched, with a small degree of satisfaction, Damian's eyes grow wide at his announcement. It's the closest to a look of surprise Tim has ever seen on his face. "What do you mean he doesn't exist here?"

A flicker of irritation fluttered in his chest at the brat's suspicious tone. "Exactly what I said, demon spawn. I looked it up. On the internet," he added, because _looked it up_ might as well translate to _hacked into the files_ in their line of work, but the security of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers was practically akin to that of the Cave's - unbreachable. Tim would bet half his inheritance his own counterpart had contributed to the unbreachableness. "Batman doesn't exist, and neither does the rest of the family."

The brat's grip on the book he'd buried himself in had loosened. "What about the Justice League?"

Tim spared his phone another glance. "They go by the Avengers."

Damian wrinkled his nose. "What kind of ridiculous name is that?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Don't ask me."

"Is Kent still Superman?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I dunno. There weren't any results for Superman, so we can only assume Clark's going by a different alias. But he's still a reporter at the Daily Planet."

Damian snapped his book shut. "Wonder Woman?"

"Still Diana." Tim handed him his phone. "Here."

"What're we talking about?"

He bit back a snicker as a vein twitched in the demon brat's temple. Common sense dictated he shouldn't find it as funny as, say, the time, when Dick tripped over a coffee table, and sent the cameraman flying during a photoshoot for Vogue, but for some godawful reason, he found the whole scene with the demon brat pretending he wasn't five seconds away from stabbing the meta - Speed, or something - hilarious. Definitely priceless blackmail material, if the gremlin wasn't currently holding Tim's phone. "None of your business."

"Since when did you become so friendly?" Tim's attention snapped towards Zatara, who had made himself comfortable on the arm of the couch, and proceeded to lean against Speed.

"Fuck off," Speed retorted, but he didn't sound offended as Tim initially thought he'd be. "I can be friendly if I want to. Also, I'm not the one dying to ask them if I exist in their world."

"Yeah, yeah." Zatara rolled his eyes. He looked at Tim with a mixture of curiousity, and boredness in his face - a feat Tim previously thought only Kon had been capable of, but obviously, the Multiverse had proved him wrong. "What the asshole said. Do I exist in your world?"

Tim made a show of thinking about the question. Then he smirked at Zatara. "That's classified information, sorry."

He didn't miss the demon brat's quiet chuckle. Zatara's expression twisted into something ugly. For a split-second, he thought the magician might turn him to ribbons, before his expression smoothened into what Tim might call _almost_ impressed. "Touché." Zatara glanced at Speed. "C'mon, Shepherd, they're not going to give us any answers."

"Yeah?" Speed sounded skeptical, but Tim watched the meta let himself be dragged away by Zatara. "How would you know?"

"Because if they're anything like our Tim and his brat, then we wouldn't get anything out of them."

"We'll let Wayne handle 'em?"

"If he wanted to interrogate them, he already would've."

Tim returned his gaze to the gremlin. The tense line of the demon's shoulders told him all he needed to know that something was bothering the demon spawn.

"Father's counterpart doesn't trust us," Damian finally said. "If he did, then we wouldn't be trapped here, would we? And those fools he sent to babysit us wouldn't be here, either."

"I heard that, you little shit!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Gremlin, stop antagonizing them. You wouldn't be any use to me if you're dead."

The demon brat huffed. "Really, Drake?"

He winced at the reminder of the incident earlier. It wasn't his proudest moment, but it's not like he had a choice.

_He swore under his breath as he bolted down the hallway after the demon spawn. Remind him why the hell did he have to open his big mouth again? Damian might act like emotions were beneath him sometimes, but he was still a child. Of fucking _course_ he'd be hurt by his words. Tim practically implied he'd preferred the demon spawn be dead than get stuck in this world with him. And he was supposed to be the adult out of the two of them._

_God, he was such an idiot._

_From previous experience, Damian would give people the silent treatment until he deemed it acceptable enough to accept their apology. Which sucked, because the silent treatment would last for _days_ depending on Damian's mood, and Tim did not have the luxury of time since, for one, they were stuck in another world, and if the brat wouldn't listen to him..._

_"Dames." He made a grab for the demon brat's arm._

_Damian recoiled like he'd personally burned him. " _What_ , Drake?"_

_Tim tried not to flinch at the venom in gremlin's voice. Yep, he definitely deserved that. At least Damian was looking at him now. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Dami, look. I'm sorry. I really am, I swear," he added, as the demon spawn's expression darkened. "It was a shitty thing to say, and I'm sorry. I know you're not happy to be stuck with me, of all people, but... you're still my brother. You're my responsibility. I don't want you to wander off by yourself and - " he almost said _and get kidnapped or something because you're angry,_ but managed to hold his tongue at the last second, "because we're supposed to stick together. We need to come up with a plan."_

_"Fine," Damian snapped. "But this temporary truce you're asking for will only last until we return to our world."_

_Tim bit the inside of his cheek. On one hand, he'd have liked it better if Damian actually gave him a choice in the matter, but on the other hand, he couldn't say anything else because the demon brat's mood might get worse, and Lord only knows what shit Tim would have to deal with if it did. "Okay."_

_"It's settled." The demon brat's furious expression cleared, making space for his usual arrogant air. Tim inwardly rolled his eyes. "Assuming we're still in Gotham, we have to track down Father, and ask him for help."_

_"Gotcha. But if it turns out we're not in Gotham?"_

_"We'll cross the bridge when we get to it."_

_Tim's stomach dropped. Shit. Damian's answer meant he didn't have his wallet, either. He really wasn't liking their chances. They were stuck in another world with no money, and only the clothes on their back. Just his luck the portal snatched him right when he was getting ready for his movie marathon with Cass._

_But he shouldn't be panicking. Panic wasn't in Tim Drake's dictionary, dammit. Worse case scenario, he should find a way to get them back to their world if Gotham doesn't exist here._

_"Sure. Yeah." He forced himself to calm the fuck down. "First things first. You have your phone with you?"_

_"Of course." The demon spawn lifted his chin. "Do _you?_ "_

_Tim's hand immediately went to the back pocket of his jeans, where he'd crammed his phone seconds before the damn portal made its appearance. "Yep. You think we should - "_

_"...I wouldn't put it past him to _not_ put trackers on them. He's a paranoid bastard. Speed's words, not mine."_

_Tim snapped his mouth shut. The speaker was obviously male, but he didn't recognize the voice. He glanced at the demon brat for help. Damian shook his head. Well, _fuck._ As the voice drew nearer, he had to remind himself he wasn't Red Robin. He was Tim Drake, and the voice was probably going to be very traumatized if a random person suddenly appeared and tried to jump him in his own home._

_" - blamed? Ask Wiccan if you want to. He'll vouch for me. The portal wasn't my fault!"_

_Anger coiled in Tim's stomach at the mention of the portal. He took it back; it was obviously the guy's fault they were stuck here. Or, like, part of his fault. He sounded too defensive for his own good. But the question is _why_ did he create the portal in the first place, even if it was, quote, not his fault, unquote. Maybe he had a superior who wanted Tim and/or Damian dead? Tim made a mental list of the magic-users who had a grudge against him (or the demon brat) huge enough to warrant throwing them into another reality. His first thought was Klarion because of the incident with Young Justice, except it was years ago, and Tim didn't know if Klarion even kept tabs on him for that long. Fauna Faust would also be a likely candidate; Tim had tracked her down, and helped arrest her, but he doubted she wanted to hire someone to transport him to a different world when she was probably capable of doing it herself._

_The voice drew even closer. Tim balled his hands into fists._

_"...Hulking, too. Or even Patriot. Ask them."_

_A shadow fell in his line of vision. It looked to be a suit, and reminded him, weirdly enough, of Zatanna. Five tense seconds later, the shadow stepped into view._

_He barely had enough time to register dark hair, and a lean body in a well-fitted suit before something slammed into the shadow._

_Tim blinked._

_Wait, it was wasn't a something. It was a fucking _someone_._

_More specifically, it was..._

_It was the demon brat, Jesus fucking Christ, what the _fuck_ did Tim do to deserve this?_

_He quickly pushed the thought aside to get ready for a fight. It was an automatic response; one Bruce had drilled into each of his Robins. His relationship with the demon brat might not be like Dick's, and Tim was definitely closer to Cass, and Jason, but it doesn't mean he wouldn't protect Damian with his life if everything went to shit._

_The demon brat had launched himself at the attacker, which made it easy for Tim to sneak upon the guy, and sweep his legs from underneath him while he was distracted._

_But the victory didn't last long. A split-second later, Tim found himself gasping for air as he was slammed to the floor by an invisible force. Thick, sturdy ropes had appeared out of nowhere, binding his wrists and legs. He swore, and raised his head to glare at the attacker. "Let me go, you asshole - "_

_Tim's jaw didn't drop at the familiar face, but it was a damn near thing. Because out of all the people he expected to put them in this situation, Zachary Zatara had been on the very bottom of the list._

It really wasn't pleasant. The confrontation afterwards had been a whirlwind of death threats from the demon spawn's side, and a fuckton of sarcastic comments from Zatara because apparently, the guy was close - okay, not close, but he _was_ friends with the Tim, and Damian of this world.

Wild.

The quick tug on his sleeve brought him back to reality. He stared at the demon brat in surprise, but the demon brat only rolled his eyes, and let his fingers fall to the side. "I don't trust the people here, Drake."

 _I don't trust the people here who aren't our family,_ went unspoken. Except for Bruce. Tim was starting to dislike the Bruce here. He wasn't bad, but something was seriously off about him; Tim just couldn't place what. "Pretty sure the feeling's mutual."

"Yes." Damian chewed on his lower lip. Tim instictively straightened up at the movement; it was a tell the gremlin had, indicating he found something newsworthy, but was hesitant to bring it up. "Anyway, I found a lead on this world's Todd."

His eyes widened. "What? How?"

"Doesn't matter," the demon brat grumbled. "Just look at it." 

Tim grabbed his phone. He frowned at the screen. "Huh. So he's also in Manhattan. I mean, it's not much, but... I guess it's better than nothing."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the Waynes really are famous in this universe.

Here's the thing: Tim wasn't dreading the arrival of this universe's Dick Grayson, per se. Really. He wasn't. He could handle another version of his childhood hero, no problem. Besides, he doubted this universe's Dick Grayson had an alter who would suddenly make an appearance mid-conversation, and try to maim Bruce when Tim wasn't looking. 

Truth to be told, it was Damian he was more worried about. Sure, the brat hadn't reacted as obviously as he did when Todd mentioned Grayson, but still. He knew for a fact underneath his baby brother's mask of indifference was a boy nervous about meeting the one person (aside from Tim) he considered an older brother. And because Tim _knew_ , it wouldn't hurt to turn to the brat, and ask, "Are you sure you don't wanna make a run for it?" 

Damian, for his part, had mustered a faint scowl. Once again, pride swelled in Tim's chest. At least the brat wasn't bottling up his emotions like he'd half-expected him to. Y'know, reverting back to his old HYDRA emotionless killing machine ways, and all that. "I'd be offended if you'd think for a second I want to make a run for it." 

"Good." Tim set down his fork to pat the brat's shoulder, ignoring how his brother scowled deeper at the action. "Wouldn't want to make it look like we have a problem with them. Even if we do. A bit. Like, zero-point-zero-five percent." 

"Tt." Damian stabbed the bite-sized portion of his waffle with more force than necessary. Tim had a suspicion he knew exactly who his brother had imagined stabbing. "Todd isn't as annoying as Shepherd, if that's what you mean." 

Aaand, there it was. He bit back a smirk in favor of the wide-eyed faux-suprised look he sent his younger brother. "Really?" 

"Yes." Damian set his mouth into a thin line. "Shepherd is a significantly more annoying... idiot." 

He spat out _idiot_ like it personally offended him, but Tim would have to be fucking dense to miss the slight pause before his brother uttered the last word. 

Well, damn. Who would've thought it'd be Tommy, out of everyone in the Young Avengers, the brat would finally warm up to? Not Tim, obviously. His brother never ceased to amaze him. "I'm proud of you." 

Damian froze in the middle of stabbing another portion of his waffle. "Why?" 

"You finally tolerated Tommy." He nudged the brat's shoulder. "Maybe you could learn to tolerate Billy and Teddy's PDA, too." 

Yep, he was definitely a bad brother for laughing at the way the blood drained from the brat's face. Billy, and Teddy weren't the PDA type, but when they got around to doing it, they really didn't do it in halves. He'd heard enough of Eddie's complaints whenever Tim dropped by the Mansion about Billy, and Teddy's sickeningly-sweet PDA during the team's bi-monthly movie nights. 

"I hate you." 

In response, he ruffled the brat's hair again, earning a swift glare which he promptly ignored. "Love you too, Dami." 

"Mother of god, did you really just say 'I love you' to the brat?" 

Tim dropped his hand. He turned to the doorway to shoot Todd a stink eye, but his brother had already beaten him to the punch. 

"And, pray tell, what's it to you if he did?" 

Fuck. Damian was using the tone he reserved for people he considered inferior. The tone he used to use when talking to Tim, Tony, Babs, and everyone else (sans Bruce) in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the cape community before Tim had managed to turn him into a normal boy with normal feelings of the non-murderous kind. He really shouldn't have been surprised the brat still wasn't over the whole Todd-only-fighting-him-because-he-wanted-to-see-if-Tim-and-Damian-cared-for-each-other incident earlier. Damian was Talia's son, after all. He made a mental note to tell B to work harder on training his son to stop holding grudges. 

"I told you! They didn't even deny it! Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find it weird, Goldie!" 

"Jason, please," Grayson said, and wow, does he sound like the Dick Grayson from Tim's universe. Like, the Dick Grayson pre-breakdown, and the rare time Tim called, and they had a pleasant conversation until Spector took over. "Hey, Damian. Good to see you again." Grayson perked up as Cass handed him a plate of waffles. "This is for me? Thanks, Cass."

"Good to see you too, Grayson," Damian replied without missing a beat. "I'm certain you know Timothy, already." 

It wasn't a question. Tim forced a winning smile upon meeting Grayson's gaze. "Hi, Dick." 

To his surprise, Grayson grinned back, like he regularly gets introduced to parallel universe versions of Tim, and Damian. He probably did. Cass did say they knew about the protocols. "Hey, Tim. Nice jacket." Grayson plucked a slice of strawberry from his plate. "So, how long would we expect our Timmy, and Dami back?" 

Straight to business. Tim liked this Grayson. "Later. Around six, maybe?" 

Because between W.A.N.D. and the magic-specialists in the Avengers, B would have made a portal in, like, five hours at most. The Waynes wouldn't need to worry about anything.

"You're serious?" At Damian's muttered _I told you they wouldn't believe us_ though he suspected his brother had said loud enough for everyone else to hear, Grayson added, "I mean, we could take you on a tour 'round Gotham while we wait for your side to conjure the portal?" 

"Timothy, and I would be honored to take your offer, Grayson." 

What. Tim leveled his brother a betrayed look. He thought they'd agreed on staying in the Manor, dammit. "Do we _have_ to?" 

"I can stay with you if you don't want to go," Cass offered. 

Stay at the weird-ass Mansion copycat while Grayson, and a parallel universe version of Jason Todd dragged his brother across a city that didn't even exist in Tim's universe? He shook his head. No thanks. "I'm coming." 

"Great!" Grayson's face had lit up. It reminded Tim of a picture he'd seen on their Dick Grayson's file in his academy days. "Let me just finish - " Grayson shoved the last of his waffles in his mouth. He chewed, then swallowed. "You'd have to leave your gun, and knife, though. Bruce would disown us if we accidentally, uh, trended on Twitter for bringing a bunch of weapons to the mall." 

Tim opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. On one hand, while the academy had practically drilled into their recruits' heads how they should never be unarmed, said recruits had also been trained in basic self-defense, so Tim could take on a guy if someone decided to mess with him. On the other hand, they were in an unfamiliar place. Hell, they were practically in a parallel universe. He'd never had to go on a crazy adventure in an unfamiliar place without his gun. 

"Here." He started at the loud _clack_ on the counter. Tim blinked at the sight of his brother's knife. Damian turned to arch a brow at him. "Timothy?" 

With a long-suffering sigh of defeat, he reached inside his jacket. "Here." He laid down his precious pistol on the counter. "You happy now, brat?" 

"Thank you, Timothy." 

He grumbled, trying to pretend he didn't notice the slight quirk of his brother's lips. Or the cheeky tone. The brat's lucky he's cute. 

"Never stops being weird, I tell you." 

"Jason." 

Tim couldn't help but send Cass a grateful look as Todd raised his hands in an _I surrender_ motion. "Yeah, yeah, I'm shutting up." 

_ 

All Tim could say was that no amount of training at the academy could prepare him for a shopping trip with a parallel version of the guy who inspired Tim to apply for S.H.I.E.L.D., and the guy who tried to kill the guy who inspired Tim to apply for S.H.I.E.L.D. 

It was surreal. 

They've already passed by the docks, Robinson Park, Gotham Academy, Gotham University, and whatever landmark the city had to offer when Grayson suggested a shopping trip. Nobody had the heart to say no to him, because Tim, and Damian hadn't been raised to be rude, and Cass, and Todd had been pretty much gone for Grayson's puppy-dog eyes. 

But if there's anything Tim did learn at the academy, it's to adapt. This wasn't even the weirdest thing that happened to him. One of the weirder ones, sure, but definitely not _the_ weirdest. The incident with Loki (Kid Loki, not the teenager Loki) and Constantine still took the cake. 

Looking back, it was definitely the reason why he hadn't asked Cass about the sunglasses Grayson donned upon their arrival at Silver Lake. And the sudden appearance of a cap on Todd's head. 

That was mistake _numero uno_. 

Currently, Grayson was browsing through the racks in one of the lesser-known boutiques for... something. A dress shirt, maybe? Or a new suit jacket? Tim had honestly lost track of what Grayson wanted to buy like, five boutiques ago. 

He watched Grayson draw a plain white dress shirt from the rack, then pull down his sunglasses to take a closer look at the piece of clothing. Tim turned to Todd, who was flipping through the racks with the air of a very bored person who'd been dragged to the boutique against his will. Todd reached up to adjust the brim of his hat so it covered his face. Tim could see the cashier shooting them suspicious looks from the counter. "Can't you just take off your dumb hat?" 

"No." 

Tim crossed his arms over his chest. "Why?" 

Todd rolled his eyes. Tim resisted the urge to give him the finger. "Because - " 

Loud gasps echoed around the store. "Dick Grayson?" 

Todd faltered at the chorus of voices. All the color had drained from his face. Slowly, Tim shifted his attention to the source of the voices. 

A group of wide-eyed teenage girls stood a few feet away from Grayson. Ice slid down the base of Tim's spine. He ignored the sinking feeling he knew exactly what these girls were up to, and turned to look at Grayson. 

Grayson, whose stupid sunglasses were still pulled down, exposing his terrified wide-eyed gaze to the rest of the store. As if Tim's attention was the cue, he straightened up, placed the dress shirt back on the rack, pushed the stupid sunglasses up his head, and shot the girls a million-dollar smile that would haunt Tim's dreams forever. "Hey, there, uh..." 

The girls shrieked. "Oh my God! It _is_ you!" 

To Tim's horror, the floor began to tremble. 

"Shit!" He almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden tight grip around his wrist. Said grip yanked him out of the store a split-second before he was trampled by the crowd of teenage girls. 

"Fucking horrifying," a familiar rough voice muttered somewhere up his head. "Though if the demon spawn were here..." 

Tim's blood ran cold. Heart in his throat, he yanked his arm out of the iron-clad grip. "I'm not leaving Dami - " 

"He'll be fine." Todd waved him off. Tim craned his neck to glare up at Todd. "He's with Cass. Let's go." 

"But what about Grayson?" he whispered furiously. "And what if _your_ fangirls saw you? You couldn't have thought up a better disguise for them?" 

"Trust me when I say Goldie could handle himself. Also, I don't have fangirls. I'm wearing a disguise because I'm dead," Todd deadpanned. 

Tim's eye twitched. To his knowledge, people who were dead to the public but secretly weren't only brought more problems than everyone else could handle. "I don't even want to know what made you think it was a good idea to come with us." He shook his head. "Just... please explain to me why your disguise only consists of a fucking hat. Because I really want to know why." 

Todd gave him the most offended look he'd seen in his life. "It's a very good disguise, ex-fucking-cuse you. You don't get to judge me about my fashion choices, Mr My-jacket-doesn't-even-go-with-my-pants." 

Tim looked down at his outfit. A plain gray shirt, dark jeans, a black jacket, and sneakers. "Nothing's wrong with my outfit, you asshole." 

"Yeah, yeah. Now stop being a pain in the ass, Timbo, and let's go." Todd arched a brow. "Unless you want to die at the hands of those fangirls? Because it'd really be a pain in the ass to explain to your side." 

Tim supressed a shiver. Shit. Much as he didn't want to admit it, Todd had a point. They had to go. Fangirls were - _shudder_ \- a league of their own. Half the Young Avengers' recounts of their fanclubs were proof of that. 

"Fine." Muttering under his breath, he fell into step beside Todd. He knew he should've asked Cass about the _trending on Twitter_ thing Grayson had mentioned. 

_

Tim flipped to the next page. 

The story wasn't particularly interesting, though he supposed it's to be expected since Tim himself wasn't a huge fan of books centered on action, and adventure, not when his job was literally a whirlwind of action, and adventure everytime he had to lead Damian through a mission. Or books, in general. Those were more Damian's forté. And Todd, he presumed. He was the one who dragged them to the hole-in-the-wall bookstore. Speaking of Todd... 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Todd absorbed in a book. Obviously. He squinted at the cover. _The Divine Comedy._ Huh. Who knew Todd was a literature nerd. 

Shrugging to himself because it'd be a trip to think about Todd being a literature nerd, which meant there'd be an off-chance the Jason Todd in his world also liked literature if everything was perfect, and he didn't go rogue, Tim turned his attention back to his own book. 

This was nice. A nice change. The comfortable silence was nice. Being too busy with S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd never got around to actually take a break and spend a day as a civilian. The only other person in the hole-in-the-wall bookstore was the cashier, an old man who didn't seem to care Tim was, like, famous in this universe. 

("Youngest CEO of Wayne Enterprises," Todd had explained gruffly as he dragged him inside. "Among other things I don't give a fuck about." 

Wild. 

…Tim probably also had a bunch of fangirls in this universe, didn't he? Yeah, he took it back. Fangirls were fucking _terrifying. _)__

__He probably should get out more. Not just with Billy, and it doesn't even count because they only meet up for video games. Tony himself had said Tim was always too much of a workaholic for his own good, but it didn't bother him because it was true. He hadn't needed anyone else. Bruce, Damian, S.H.I.E.L.D., and some of the Young Avengers were more than enough._ _

__Right?_ _

__"Timbo." The voice startled him out of his thoughts. He raised his head from his book to meet Todd's stare. "Dick just texted me. We're meeting up at the parking lot."_ _

__Tim gaped at him. It took half his self-restraint (and all his training) not to pout. "Now?"_ _

__Todd, the jerk, nodded way too eagerly for his own good. Why? Tim didn't know. The gleam in the jerk's eyes gave his amusement away. "Yep. Boss' orders, unfortunately. Nothin' else I could do."_ _

__With a mournful sigh, Tim slid the book back to the shelf. There goes his peace and quiet. He followed Todd out of the bookstore, careful to keep his head low as they weaved through the crowd. Thankfully, they arrived at the parking lot with zero interactions from anyone else - fangirls or otherwise._ _

__"Timothy!"_ _

__Tim grunted as a familiar weight of landed somewhere beneath his ribcage. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the pint-sized brat, and smiled to himself when he felt Damian squeeze his waist. "Where's Cass, and Grayson?"_ _

__"Grayson wanted ice cream," Damian muttered, voice muffled against the fabric of Tim's shirt._ _

__"Ice cream?" Todd repeated. "Is he for real?"_ _

__Damian pulled away from Tim to shoot Todd a glare. "Yes. And please keep your voice down, or else."_ _

__Tim chuckled. "Give him a break, D. He might be a jerk, but it's thanks to him I wasn't trampled to death by a bunch of fangirls."_ _

__The brat scrunched up his nose. "I still don't get - "_ _

__"Dami!"_ _

__Tim stiffened at the voice, hand reaching for the gun in his jacket, before he remembered he left it at the Mansion copy-cat. Drat. He turned around, but it was too late. Damian had already tackled the boy (a civilian?) to the ground._ _

__And, fuck. Seriously, not _again.__ _

__Glancing skyward to beg whichever god was listening for strength, Tim bent down to stop his brat of a baby brother from injuring a poor civilian (?) in the middle of a parking lot in broad daylight, Jesus fuck. "Dames, please. You could've disarmed him the normal way. How many times do we have to talk about it?"_ _

__After a fuckload of effort from Tim's side, they finally managed to separate Damian from the poor civilian, whose name Todd said was Jon, so he was probably Jon. Who, come to think of it, was also probably a friend of the Damian in this universe._ _

__"What is wrong with you?" Jon hissed, pointing a finger at Damian's chest. Tim couldn't help but stare at him, dumbstruck. Jon wasn't even hurt?? Like, Tim might not be an expert in combat, but he was pretty sure normal people were supposed to bruise when someone punched them in the face. Normal people definitely don't brush the dirt off their pants, and storm towards the guy who punched them like nothing happened. A horrified thought occured to Tim. Christ, was Jon a mutant? "I waited for _hours_ , but you never showed up! You couldn't even have sent me a text, or, I dunno, called me?" _ _

__Yep. Okay. Definitely a friend._ _

__"Jason!" Jon whirled around to pout - yeah, he was pouting; it's actually kinda adorable, the kid could give Damian a run for his money - at Todd. "You should tell Dami it's rude to flake on people!"_ _

__"I'm right here," Damian muttered. "Also, I'm not your Damian. I'm from a parallel universe."_ _

__"You're from a what."_ _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, is there a universe where Jason didn't want to kill Tim, or...?

According to the brat, Jason was hiding out somewhere in a bar in the Lower East Side, so they were currently on their way to said bar all the while keeping a careful eye out for Zatara in case he wanted to drag them back kicking and screaming into the Mansion. But really, if you asked Tim, it was plain weird how the meta hadn't managed to find them yet, considering he had a home base advantage and probably about a hundred tracking spells under his belt. 

Either Tim, and the gremlin were just _that_ good at hiding in plain sight (and not to brag, but they were; they were Robins after all) or Zatara wasn't even making an effort to look for them. 

And the second option wasn't reassuring in the slightest, despite the fact it should be, because hey, he and Damian were free to roam around Manhattan without some random guard-dog-slash-tourist-guide-slash-magician breathing down their necks. But for some reason, the whole thing was the opposite of reassuring. Call it a side-effect of being trained by one of the most paranoid men to ever exist in the whole multiverse, but he couldn't help but think something kind of...bad was going to happen. 

He quickly forced down the particular train of thought. He didn't need more distractions today. Right now, he just had to focus on looking for Jason to ask him for help to return to their world. 

(Jason would know how to get them home, right? Okay, sue Tim for putting too much faith in him, but he was definitely going to trust Jason over a Bruce who wouldn't tell them anything about their older brothers. Seriously, was it so hard to confirm if Dick was alive? Or dead? Jesus, the Bruce here seemed to have layers upon layers of trust issues.) 

"Drake?" The demon spawn broke the tentative silence. 

Tim gave an affirmative hum to show he was listening. 

"Do you think Todd would be suspicious of us like Father had been?" 

He slowed down his pace as he mulled upon the question. A sliver of anxiety had bubbled in his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it. He really didn't want to think about what would happen to them on the off-chance they'd be stuck for more than twenty-four hours in this world. "If we're lucky, then Jay getting therapy is a constant between all dimensions." 

"And if it's not?" 

He chewed on his lower lip. "If he wouldn't want to help us, then we'll ask Zatara, and Speed if they know Dick." He glanced at Damian. "Or know someone who knows Dick. Either way, we'll get Dick's number, and if he won't help us, we'll ask Cass." 

The brat scrunched his nose. Tim ran over the plan in his mind; it did sound kind of desperate. It definitely wasn't as well thought of than most of the plans he'd come up with, but in his defense, they were stuck in an unknown world, and were probably, most definitely gonna go toe-to-toe with unknown villains the longer they stayed, so he could be excused if the plan wasn't up to his usual standards. 

"Look," he amended, "you need to stop worrying, demon spawn. It's not a good look on you. I mean, I can't promise the exact minute we'd be sent back to our world, but I can promise I'd do whatever it takes to find Dick, and the others if we'd end up being - god forbid - stuck in this world for weeks." 

"You better keep your word." Tim forced a nod. It'll be a piece of cake once he manages to step up his game, and hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database. His counterpart's firewalls won't stand a chance, no matter how 'unbreachable' they were. He was confident he could bypass them in three days. "Anyway, we've arrived at Todd's location." 

For whatever reason, he'd completely missed the entrance to what looked like a run-down bar. Correction, a bar, and a grill. Tim rolled his shoulders. If he'd be really, really lucky, Jason would be more than willing to help them without the involvement of bribery, begging, or blackmail. 

"Drake, wait." He stopped at the demon spawn's grip on the back of his shirt. "Before you confront Todd, I..." he trailed off, biting his lower lip. Tim arched a brow. Damian inhaled sharply. "I just thought you'd ought to be aware he's a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent." 

Tim suppressed a groan. Why can't Jason just have been a civilian here? Information about the parallel versions of the people they know weren't remotely helpful when neither him nor the brat had any weapon on their person. "Is there anything else you conveniently forgot to tell me until literally the last minute?" 

To his utmost surprise, the gremlin didn't rise to the bait. "No, nothing else. Although," the demon spawn added, expression twisting into a sneer where in other circumstances Tim would've loved to knock off his face, "I know for a fact you're normally useless without your staff, desperate times call for desperate measures. Don't let your guard down; I have faith you'll be more than capable of winning Todd over to our side." 

He blinked at the brat. "That's...actually the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Are you sure you're my little brother?" 

Damian scowled, but Tim didn't miss the light flush on his cheeks. "Shut up, Drake." 

A fact he was fifty-three percent sure of which Jason had volunteered back when he was drunk off his ass at Dick's apartment sometime around a year ago, and Tim was currently agreeing with: the demon spawn was actually cute when he wasn't trying to kill them. "Wish me luck, baby bat." 

The brat rolled his eyes. "Good luck. Even then, I highly doubt you'll need it." 

Did Damian just make a joke, and compliment Tim in one sentence? Huh. Maybe they should throw him to a different dimension every week. There must be something in the city if it managed to tame even the untamable Damian Wayne. Biting back a grin at the thought, Tim pulled the door open, and slipped inside. 

He looked around. 

Okay, the interior wasn't any worse than the dive bars he'd frequented in East End to gather intel, especially with its abundance of shady-looking guys who'd glanced his way, but something about this place made his skin crawl. He continued to look around the bar. It wasn't spacious, which was perfect if he ever needed a quick get-away in case Jason didn't get therapy in this world. 

As luck would have it, he found himself zeroing in on the familiar figure (the jacket was unmistakable) near the back. So he steeled his nerves (because he was Red Robin, dammit, plus, it's not like he couldn't handle Jason if things went downhill) and approached the table. "Hi. Uh, Jason? Jason Todd?" 

Jason straightened up. 

Tim's eyes widened. "What the hell?" 

His brother's lip curled into a sneer. But Tim couldn't tear his gaze away from the chunk of metal resembling the left side of Jason's face, all the way down to his neck. Metal, instead of skin. What the hell had happened to him in this world? 

"You've got the nerve to track me down, Drake. Last I heard, wasn't your dear Director so adamant in not letting his precious sons meet Grayson's protegée at all costs?" Jason's low chuckle made alarm bells ring in his head. The sound was awfully too reminiscent of the multiple times his Jason had tried to kill him when he was Robin. "Or did you forget? 'Cause in that case, I'm pretty sure Wayne wouldn't care if I, ah, reminded you _exactly_ why you shouldn't have shown your pretty lil' face here, don't you think?" Jason's smirk widened. It took half of Tim's self-restraint not to make a run for it because, yep, he'd definitely screwed up. Big time. He could almost hear Steph laughing at him. "But I'd prefer to do it outside the establishment, since Earl would be fuckin' pissed when he realizes I drove away the costumers again." 

_ 

Seriously, the whole afternoon was already full of surprises, he really shouldn't have been surprised Jason didn't get therapy here. 

Fuck his life. For real. His life sucked. He never should've forced Bruce to take him in as Robin. It was really one of the worst decisions he made in his history of worse decisions. 

…Okay, he was lying, but in Tim's defense, he can't help but be a little over-dramatic (Jesus, he was spending too much time with Dick) when he just found out Jason (another version, at least) wanted to kill him. Again. 

Back pressed against the wall, he held his breath, careful to keep an ear out for the sound of heavy footsteps. After five seconds of silence, he forced himself to breathe again. "Fuck. He's insane." 

Damian clicked his tongue from beside him. "Worse than our Todd post-Lazarus Pit?" 

He thought about the question. Their Jason post-Lazarus Pit had been bad, but he wasn't part-cyborg-who-held-a-grudge-against-both-Tim-and-Damian-and-probably-all-of-S.H.I.E.L.D.-kind-of-bad. Just... "Pretty close." 

"Obviously, seeing as he almost killed you with a lampost." 

Tim rolled his eyes. He didn't need the gremlin's sassiness right now. "'Least we were outside. He'd probably have thrown the entire counter at me if we were at the bar. And my counterpart would've ended up paying for it, too." 

As a rule, civilian-based establishments were supposed to be left alone. He assumed it was also a constant between worlds, which was definitely the reason why Jason didn't want to start a fight at Earl's, but ultimately made it a lot harder for Tim, and the demon spawn to find a place to hide until S.H.I.E.L.D. or some random superhero arrived to save the day. Like the situation wasn't difficult enough, he had a sinking feeling Jason would stop at nothing to ~~kill~~ hurt them, and they couldn't even hope to win against him because, hello, part-cyborg with super-strength. 

He only needed to dodge the lampost Jason threw at him to realize the fact that they were 98.07% relatively, absolutely, super fucked. 

"Y'know, I'm kinda hurt you went through all this way to track down poor ol' me, but you don't even wanna talk?"

Again, they were fucked. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I have a plan." 

"If your plan involves you sacrificing yourself to distract Todd while I call for reinforcements, I'm going to have to disagree with you," the brat deadpanned. Tim's eyes flew open. He opened his mouth to explain how it wasn't even close to what he was about to suggest at all, but it seemed Damian wasn't done yet. "I don't want to drag your corpse back to our world, and watch Father shut everyone else out for a second time." 

"I wasn't - " Tim clenched his jaw at the unreadable look on the gremlin's face. He didn't have time for this. "Just listen, okay?" He quickly bent down to whisper the plan in the brat's ear. The unreadable look on Damian's face quickly disappeared to be replaced by (if Tim squinted hard enough) a vaguely impressed expression. 

"C'mon, Agent Drake, are you scared I'm gonna kill you?" Jason - sorry, Todd; he was Todd to Tim now because _Jason_ was their brother and this Cyborg-impersonator was _not_ their brother - called out. It was safe to say he was still a good amount of distance from their hiding place. "I'm not going to, if you were wondering. Because I'm gonna make you pay for what Wayne did to me first!" 

Tim looked at the brat, who nodded. 

Show time. 

_ 

Nothing screamed running-away-from-the-batshit-insane-parallel-version-of-your-older-brother more than scaling a wall to jump to the other side before rushing off to blend into the crowd with the small sliver of hope your luck would be enough and he wouldn't be able to find you. 

(Also, you're supposed to be looking out for Zatara to tell him to send reinforcements in order to stop said batshit insane parallel version of your older brother from murdering you and the demon brat, but you have no idea how to do it because, frankly, Manhattan was huge. Besides, there was no shame in ~~running away~~ retreating, no matter what the demon brat said. And it's not like you wanted to retreat, either. But when you're stuck in an unfamiliar world with only your phone, the twenty bucks you remembered you kept in your phone case, plus the gremlin against one (1) half-cyborg with super strength who has a grudge against you for god-knows-what reason, you practically don't have a choice.) 

Tim could count the number of situations he'd fucked up with his half-baked plans on one hand. If luck was on his side, the current situation wouldn't be a part of them. Hopefully. 

With that thought in mind, he ducked inside the thrift shop, Damian at his heels. 

After much haggling (look, he wasn't proud of it, but again, desperate times called for desperate measures, and no way was he going to resort to stealing clothes from a thrift shop, thank you very much), Tim found himself in possession of a brand-new (okay, second-hand) jacket, and a scarf. He quickly tied his hair into a low ponytail. "Done." 

The demon spawn nodded, apparently pleased with their disguises. Tim had brought him a cap, a coat, and told him to cuff his pants. 

Minutes later, they stepped out into the sidewalk. Tim glanced to his left. Then to his right. No sign of Todd. He turned back to the gremlin. "Let's go." 

They unanimously agreed to take great care not to look like they were in a hurry unless they wanted to appear suspicious - 

A figure blurred to life in front of him, forcing Tim to stop dead in his tracks. He was a split-second away from instinctively flipping the figure over until he recognized the silver hair. "Speed?" 

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking all over for you!" 

Tim fell silent. He...really didn't want to answer that. "Where's Zatara?" 

Speed's face twisted into a scowl. "He went off to handle Deathlok. Director's orders." 

"Deathlok?" Who the _fuck_ was Deathlok? Another supervillain, obviously. As if Jason wasn't enough. He quickly ran through a mental list of villains Deathlok could possibly be - Lex Luthor? The Joker? 

"Sorry, I mean Jason Todd," Speed explained. The bottom dropped from Tim's stomach. Shit. He shared a panicked look with Damian. "I don't know if you know him, but he's a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turned rogue. High-level threat, so I need to take you to HQ as soon as possible." 

Double shit. 

The gremlin cleared his throat, pinched expression smoothing over to his usual stoic mask. "Is Zatara going to be alright?" 

"Of course," Speed replied, without missing a beat. "He's Zatara. Anyway, we have to go. I really gotta take you to HQ. Wayne said they managed to re-create the portal." 

Hope gripped at Tim's chest, before it was swallowed by a sheer amount of panic. They couldn't afford to return now, not when Zatara could potentially end up hurt (or worse, dead) because Tim, and the demon brat had majorly fucked up. Even if it was Zatara's fault for sending them to this batshit insane world, Tim wasn't heartless enough to leave him to fend for himself. Damian wasn't heartless, either; Jon, and his pets were proof. "We can't. We can't leave. We have to help him." 

Speed gave an impatient huff. "You're civilians. Even if you weren't in your world, you're both civilians here - "

"Deathlok was our fault," he blurted out. "Damian, and I ran off to find him since we thought he could - nevermind. So really, we have to help. We owe Zatara. You. For the mess." 

Speed stared at them. Tim stared back. Speed stared harder. "You're not actually serious - 

"We are," he interrupted, slipping into his _I'm-the-CEO-so-you-better-listen-to-what-I-say_ voice; the one he used whenever he wanted to pursuade some of the more hard-headed people at WE's board of directors. 

"...okay." Speed reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Okay. _Fine._ But because I'm such a good friend, I'm not even going to ask why you sought out a fucking supervillain in the first place." 

"It's not like we knew he was a bad guy..." Tim muttered under his breath, but inwardly, he was thankful Speed wasn't making such a big deal out of the revelation it was their fault why half of Lower Manhattan was probably rubble by now. 

Speed arched a brow. "Then who was he in your universe?" 

"Our brother. Do you have a problem with it?" the gremlin retorted, in his _I-dare-you-to-argue-with-me_ tone. 

Speed snorted. "Yeah, I'm not gonna be explaining that shit to the director." 

Tim waved him off. "Don't worry, we'll handle Bruce." 

_ 

Thankfully, Zatara wasn't dead (yet) when they managed to locate him, but Tim couldn't say the same for the upper half of the tree trunk lying sadly at the meta's feet. He was pretty sure he saw its bottom half down the street earlier... 

"Tim? What the hell are you - and the demon brat?! You're supposed to be at HQ!" 

Oh, yeah. Anothing thing: Zatara was pissed. Fortunately, Tim had loads of experience dealing with pissed-off heroes who didn't want to admit they obviously need his help. "Deathlok was our fault. We owe you." 

There. Quick, and easy, like ripping off a band-aid. 

"You're civilians!" Zatara hissed, either not having heard Tim, or very conveniently ignoring the part where he admitted it was their fault half of Lower Manhattan was now in rubble. 

"We're really not," Tim muttered under his breath. 

Of course, Zatara heard him anyway. "Doesn't matter! If you aren't at HQ in ten minutes, the director will have our asses - " 

"Zach," Speed interrupted impatiently, "status report." 

Zatara's mouth snapped shut. Tim could see a vein twitch in his temple. "First of all, fuck you. Second, Deathlok has a talisman that I swear to god I _know_ he stole from Constantine. My spells don't work against him for more than two minutes." 

"Do you know what it looks like?" 

Zatara huffed out a laugh. "All I know is it's silver. Kind of like a quarter, maybe? Not sure. Zee only told me about it." 

"Fuck," Speed breathed. (Tim privately agreed. With their luck, Todd probably hid the talisman in his wallet.) 

"Exactly." Zatara reached up to run a shaky hand through his hair. The cut on his face still hadn't stopped bleeding. "We're fucked, unless we have back-up." 

"No back-up," Speed confirmed. Zatara swore. "The Avengers are off-world, Billy, and Hulkling are at HQ, and the rest of the team are in fuck-knows-where." 

"Okay." Zatara ran a hand through his hair again. " _Okay._ So. Any plans, Agent Drake?" 

Damian snorted from somewhere near Tim's shoulder. "Are you certain you should be asking him?" 

Tim rolled his eyes. "Not now, demon brat." He returned his attention to Speed, and Zatara. Apparently, he was still a strategist here. "Does Deathlok have any known weakness?" 

"That's the problem." Speed shook his head in frustration. "He doesn't." 

"Are you sure?" he pressed. It didn't make sense. Todd wasn't invincible; he was a cyborg. Well, part-cyborg but - 

"Agent Drake. Wayne Jr. Back so soon?" 

Tim's breath caught in his throat. He whirled around. Shit, how did Deathlok...? He hadn't noticed anything - 

Damian made a derisive noise. "Todd." Tim could feel the demon brat's panic despite his collected façade. 

Todd narrowed his eyes. Tim instinctively stepped forward to shield his brother from Todd's view. No matter how much they dislike each other, he'll be damned if he lets a supervillain get his hands on the demon spawn. "Touch him, and I'll kill you." 

And he meant it, but judging by the subtle stiff shift in the gremlin's posture, his declaration wasn't expected. It made some sort of sinking feeling bubble in Tim's gut, which he hastily pushed down because this was _so_ not the time. 

Todd barked out a laugh. "I'm actually startin' to like ya, Drake. Shame Grayson, and your daddy didn't want ya ta meet me. But you can't blame 'em. After all, Brucie wouldn't want me, the guy whose life he "accidentally" fucked up, to murder you, the kid he took under his wing only because you literally fuckin' annoyed him so much, even if you basically replaced me the minute everyone assumed I was dead, right?" 

Tim clenched his jaw as he tried to stop his brain from picturing Jason sneering at him. Granted, it was hard to differentiate Todd from Jason considering the words hit way too close to home. (Was him replacing Jason also a constant between universes?) He really underestimated metas who could jump dimensions or travel through time. How they didn't go crazy when they meet evil versions of their loved ones who guilt-tripped them was beyond him. 

"What'sa matter?" Todd tilted his head to the side. "Did I hit a nerve?" 

"Shut up." Tim started at the undercurrent of hate in the demon brat's tone. "Less talk, more fight, Todd." 

"Feelin' left out, Wayne Jr?" Todd's gaze flickered back to Damian. Tim resisted the urge to bare his teeth at him. "Y'know, Madame Hydra misses you. But I betcha your mom misses you even more." 

Before Tim could punch the smirk off of Todd's face, someone - Speed - had already streaked forward, fist outstretched - 

In slow motion, he watched Todd lift a hand to block the punch. So, the talisman worked against Speed, too. Great. Awesome. Just what they needed. In the blink of an eye, Todd had thrown Speed across the street. Tim winced at the sound of a window shattering. 

Yep, can't forget the super-strength. But Tim had a Plan with a capital P this time, and he'll be damned if it wouldn't work against Todd. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Todd gave a feral, if slightly manic smile. It honestly reminded Tim of the time Jason broke into the Tower to kill him. "Anyone else?" 

_ 

Bruce's Scowl of Anger™ transcended universes, apparently. From the corner of his eye, Tim could see Zatara try to heal (keyword: try) the huge gash on Speed's side. Both Speed, and Zatara looked like they've dragged themselves out of hell, and he knew he and Damian didn't look any better. 

After a moment of tense silence where the alternate version of their dad glared at them, and Tim coolly gazed back, Bruce's counterpart cleared his throat. "Report." 

Tim licked his lips. "Well..."


End file.
